You Came From Nowhere
by in48frames
Summary: Like a miracle cure. / Betty and Kate have that conversation they've been avoiding.


**A/N:** _This started as an idea and turned into therapy. It is set **post-2x02** because I am not at all ready to touch this week's episode. Hope you enjoy.  
_

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Betty is scared. She will admit this to herself, if not to anyone else. She can't tell Kate, though she doesn't believe either of them is fooling the other. They look to one another constantly for reassurance; steal glances over shoulders when they've turned to change.

Betty has to look, because she hasn't heard Kate sing one note since she brought her home. And that scares her. Singing was so much a part of Kate, of her light and colour. Kate seems to be fading, into fear and dread, and Betty doesn't know how to help her, especially when she's so frightened herself. She wants to be brave and strong for Kate, she tries so hard, but when it comes to Kate going away again she just panics. She loses every ounce of self-possession she has, and that scares her.

Sometimes she thinks Kate understands this. Sometimes she thinks Kate is just waiting for her to say it. Sometimes, like when she asks, _Why do you want me messing up your life?_ and then just stares and waits. Those are the times when Betty thinks, _Do you really want to know? I'll tell you._

But she didn't, she hasn't, she might not ever. She's so _scared_. The truly absurd thing is she isn't afraid of these concrete threats like _war_ and _bombs_. What terrifies her is words like _deviant_ and _never_ and _goodbye_. She can feel how precariously she is balanced and every night she just hopes to get through one more day.

It's one night as they're changing for bed, facing the walls in their respective corners, that Betty hears snatches of a note Kate hums before cutting herself off, then doing it again a moment later. Betty pauses, half-dressed, and leans on the dresser she's standing by. She isn't sure if this is the right way to do this, but she closes her eyes and does it anyway.

"Kate?"

The shuffling on the other side of the room stops, and there's a silence. "Yes?"

Betty's heart can't decide between terror and hope. "Will you sing for me?"

There's a longer silence, a weighty pause, and Betty thinks she's going to say no, but then it comes softly across the room to her: "Some glad morning when this life is o'er, I'll fly away; To a home on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away, I'll fly away." She sings through the song in a mournful, yearning tone as they stand still in their opposite corners, and Betty is crying before she even knows it. When it's over and she can move again, she throws on her pyjamas and climbs onto the bed, holding her hands out to Kate. They huddle together on the bed, crying until they have to laugh at their own misery.

Her arm around Kate's neck as they rock together, Betty says, "I want to tell you it's going to be okay, Kate. I want to know that it's going to be okay."

Kate raises her hand to Betty's face, smoothing her fingertips over Betty's cheek and wiping the trails of tears away. She cups Betty's face in her hand and says, "I don't know. I won't lie. But I wouldn't want to go into battle with anyone else, Bets, I can promise you that."

Betty looks balefully back at her. "Well, I'm glad I can be good for something."

Raising her other hand, Kate does the same on the other cheek and holds Betty's face in her hands, saying quietly, "Everything, Betty. You have to know that, everything."

Betty's heart feels like it's going to explode and she might get sick from the tension of being this close to Kate, so she leans back, away from her hands, and turns away. Kate's hands stay on her, stroking her back, and that's almost worse. Betty gets up and crosses to the dresser, pretending to have something important (like sorting stockings?) to do so she can get some space. She tries to remember what they'd been doing before; apparently it isn't only Kate leaving that terrifies her—Kate getting too close makes her panic almost as much. Of course she'd take the latter over the former any day.

After actually sorting stockings for a minute, Betty is brought back enough to clear her throat and say, "Thank you, Kate. That was just what I needed."

Kate's response comes from much nearer than the bed and Betty spins around, unprepared.

"Really? Because you seem less yourself now than before." Her tone is curious, her expression non-threatening, but Betty has already reacted like she'd been stuck with a hot poker so she can't exactly argue. Instead she lowers her gaze, hands gripping the dresser behind her, and doesn't reply. Kate takes a step forward and Betty backs up the last inch she has, which prompts Kate to raise her hands in submission.

"Betty? What's wrong?"

Betty smiles, drops her gaze to the floor and says, "Nothing. Not a thing," without conviction.

"You wouldn't lie to me, Betty?"

There's a hint of something in her voice—fear? Desperation?—and Betty freezes. Her smile drops, her brow furrows, and she does not know what to do now. She shakes her head vaguely and Kate takes another step forward, gathering Betty's hands from behind her and holding them in her own.

"Tell me the truth, Betty," and Betty remembers when she almost did that, just a day or so ago. She can't bring herself to speak, but she swallows hard.

"Betty, Betty," Kate says softly, and raises her hand to Betty's cheek again.

Betty drops her hand then and turns away, saying, "This, Kate! This is what I can't do. Please," and she looks back beseechingly. "Don't you understand?"

Kate stands there for a second with her hand still in the air, then she moves slowly back to the bed. Betty leans on the dresser with her head down, back turned on Kate for the tenth time today. She knows they can't go on this way, but what can she say? What can she say out loud that won't do exactly what she's spent the last month since Kate came home trying not to do?

She lets the tension out of her shoulders and slumps a bit, then clears her throat again and says, "I've been trying so hard, Kate. I'm just trying to do this right, but I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Let me help you," Kate says pleadingly, and Betty is silent again. She puts her head in her hands, folded over the dresser, and Kate begs, "Please."

After a moment, Betty takes a deep breath and straightens. She pushes off the dresser and walks to the bed like she's walking through quicksand. Sitting down at the other end, she closes her eyes and says tonelessly, all at once: "The thing is, Kate, I don't care about Ivan. I don't want to be with Ivan. I love you and that's all, and that's all it will ever be." She waits for her punishment.

She feels Kate's hands on her face and she flinches, but Kate's touch is no sharper than it was before. Betty's eyes flicker open and she sees Kate kneeling on the bed beside her, cradling her face and watching her calmly. Betty tries to turn away but Kate holds her gently in place and she subsides, closing her eyes again.

"I know you love me, Betty. You aren't that skillful an actress. I just wanted to know I wasn't making it up."

Betty's eyebrows scrunch together over her still-closed eyes. "But you're going to leave again."

"No," Kate says, sounding surprised, then her voice softens and she says, "No, I'm not going to leave again." There's a pause and she stretches out her fingers, framing Betty's face and stroking her thumbs over Betty's cheeks. Kate takes a breath and says distinctly, "This is my home, Betty. This is where I belong." She smoothes out Betty's still crumpled brow and says, so softly, "With you."

Betty opens her eyes but does pull away, gripping Kate's hand when she drops them to the bed. "I hope you'll forgive me if I'm unsure."

"Of me?" Kate says, and her eyes are wide and sad. Betty doesn't reply and after a moment Kate nods. "I understand."

"I don't blame you for it," Betty whispers. "But you did leave. Twice."

Kate nods again, face sombre, and holds Betty's hand in both of hers. "I can't promise I'll never leave again, because neither of us knows… But I love you and here is where I want to be, Betty. Only here." Betty freezes and Kate strokes the back of her hand. "Of course I love you, Betty. That's a plain fact and something that will never change, okay? You don't have to worry about that."

Finally Betty just tips over onto the bed, her hair falling to cover her face. Kate crawls to her head and sweeps her hair back with one finger, then bends to kiss her cheek. Betty turns to face the ceiling, eyes closed, face straight. After a moment's hesitation, Kate bends and drops a kiss on Betty's lips just as she kissed her cheek. Betty can't help smiling then and her eyes open to meet Kate's, sparkling. She doesn't say anything yet, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, and Kate smiles back shyly.

Betty brings her hand up to Kate's neck, fingers sliding through her hair and seeking out the back of her head. She bites her lip on her smile and Kate plants her hands on the bed on either side of Betty's shoulders. Leaning down, she kisses her again, lips tentative but certain. Betty twists under her to lay flat on the bed and Kate relaxes against her, hands returning to Betty's face.

Betty hums approvingly and after a second, Kate hums the same note, one octave up. Betty doesn't have perfect pitch or anything but it's pretty clear what's happening and Betty can't help laughing through her nose. She's grateful nothing disgusting happens before she turns her face to the side and just laughs.

Smiling against her cheek, Kate says, "Sometimes I just can't help myself."

Hand at the side of Kate's face, Betty coaxes her back a few inches so she can meet her eyes. She starts to speak, stops herself, and drops her eyes. "Can I take that to mean you're feeling better?" The faux-casual façade is so thin as to be gossamer and Kate dips her head to give her a _really?_ look in the eyes. Betty shrugs one shoulder, still not looking up.

Kate says, "Rome wasn't built in a day. But: better?" She ghosts her hand down Betty's neck, around her shoulder and down her arm, before slipping it over and around her waist, landing in the small of Betty's back, pressed into the bed. "Hmm, better…" She leans down and brushes her nose against Betty's, who scrunches hers up in protest, then says against her lips, "Better; I could say better." She kisses her again (and maybe once more) and whispers, "I think I might be feeling better."

Betty grins again and shakes her head, shaking Kate's with it. "This is a dream. This can't be true."

"I would pinch you, but," and Kate goes limp, her body weight (slight as that may be) pressing down on Betty. She rests her head next to Betty's on the bed, mouth inches from her ear, and says, "Depends on the sort of dreams you're having, I suppose."

They lie like that until Betty gives in and swats at her arm, saying, "Get off, get off." Kate rolls off her with a smile and Betty inhales deeply and then turns on to her side, hanging on to Kate's arm and resting her chin on her shoulder. "You are not heavy, but a girl needs a little room to breathe."

"Precisely. Would your dream give you room to breathe?" Kate sounds smug. "But again, it depends what sort of dreams you're having."

"Okay, honestly, it's not a dream. You've proven your point. Let it go," Betty says laughingly, then stretches her arm across Kate's waist and pulls her closer so she can kiss along her jaw, murmuring, "Pretty girl." Kate turns her head to kiss her on the mouth again and it feels like every minute is getting better and better. Betty still doesn't really believe this is real, but she'll keep that to herself. Whatever sorcery or fantasy this may be, she can still enjoy it as long as possible.

Kate turns onto her side and they lie facing each other, inches between their noses. This is as new as kissing, being this close with nothing between them, and they just breathe and stare at each other until they begin to drift off to sleep. Then Kate whispers, "I love you," and Betty loses all that pleasant drowsiness as her brain switches back on and she turns her face into the bed, grinning.

"You can't do this to me."

"But I have to," Kate says, pushing Betty's hair back again and shifting forward. "Okay," she says, kissing Betty's lips. "We won't talk anymore," kissing her again. "We'll just sleep," one more time. "We do have work in the morning."

"Work," Betty groans. "Are you saying there's still a world outside this room, because I'm not sure I'll believe you."

"Hmm, as far as I know. I can't be certain. But we should likely err on the side of caution. Don't you agree?"

Betty glares in response, as best she can from two inches away and with a grin refusing to retreat from her face. Ignoring this entirely, Kate rolls onto her back and pushes and pulls Betty until she can comfortably wrap her arms around her and relax into the bed.

"There, see? Now sleep."

Betty stares forward obstinately until a cracking yawn splits her jaw, and then she rolls her eyes and snuggles into Kate, sighing, "Fine. I'll sleep. But if I wake up and this was all a dream…"

"Mmhmm? What will you do?"

"Cry," Betty says bluntly. "Maybe refuse to leave my room."

"Good thing this isn't a dream, then."

Unconvinced, Betty turns her face against Kate's shoulder and inhales, then smiles and closes her eyes, thinking about sleep.

"I still love you," Kate whispers.

Keeping her eyes closed and trying desperately not to wake up again, telling her heart to just hush, Betty whispers back, "I still love you too. Goodnight, Kate."

"Goodnight, Betty," Kate says, already half asleep. "Dream of me."

That's a bit too much for Betty and her eyes open, but she sighs and says, "Not a problem," as she stares into the dark. She'll sleep eventually, and in the mean time she has little to complain about. In fact just thinking about what she might complain about makes her smile again and she closes her eyes, thinking, _Sleep, sleep, sleep._ How is she meant to sleep on a night like this?

Of course, she does. She is exhausted and she doesn't believe in giving half when it comes to her job. And of course, she dreams of Kate. It's half stress dream and half idyll, or perhaps one of each, but she is happy, when she wakes in the night, to have Kate immediately within reach. No true nightmare could possibly touch her here.

(Betty is not that much of an optimist, and she knows she's fooling herself a little. But God, she'd rather be fooling herself. She does so very little of it, and it feels so nice, if only briefly.)

In the morning, they wake up. The dreams were only dreams and the reality is still real. For one night at least, Betty can breathe a sigh of relief and scrape some shavings off the brick of fear in her stomach. She can only possibly take this one day at a time, and so she will.

If Kate keeps looking at her like that, it'll be a breeze.


End file.
